Beware of Sisters Bearing Gifts
by gingergen
Summary: A snapshot from late in Act 2. Hawke dips a little too far into the Invisible Sister's stash of Antivan brandy and starts feeling sorry for herself. Implied Hawke/Fenris. Rated T for the drinking.


**One-off, implied f!Hawke/Fenris. This is a scene cut from a longer Hawke/Fenris story because it didn't really fit anymore. They say to kill your darlings, but I had such a fun time writing this, I couldn't bear to toss it away. **

**Edited, because apparently I forgot Galen's name, among other things. Should have asked someone to beta!**

**...**

She pounded on his door. "Fenris! Fenriiiiiiiis!" She banged some more. "Andraste's frilly knickers, elf, where are you?"

Long minutes later, the door opened slightly. Fenris looked very grim. "Why you walking around with your sword? Where have you been? Let me in." He opened the door slightly more and continued to glare at her.

"What?" Then... "Oooooh. I used the wrong knock."

"You used the wrong knock. I was under the impression something might be seriously wrong."

"Nope! Just me! Sorry. I forgot." Hawke pushed in past him. He sighed.

"I came to _tell_ you. We found the hideout of the Invisible Sisterhood. Know what they had a lot of?"

He continued to stand by the door, as if expecting her to leave. "What."

"Antivan brandy. S'good. Look, I brought you some!" She dug around in her pack and pulled out a half-empty bottle, which she proceeded to wave at him. "Try it! It's more like the wine you like. Not like ale. Know you don't like that."

"Hawke. It's the middle of the night. Shouldn't you be at your own house?"

"Nope." Since he made no move to go up to his study, she sat herself down on the stairs, and pulled at the cork on the brandy bottle. "Too..." It came out with a pop. "Too bloody quiet." She took a drink. "Also, the portraits stare at me. Bloody Amells. Never met them. But they stare." She took another drink.

Fenris sighed, and sat down next to her, after setting his broadsword out of reach above them. She handed him the bottle, which he placed on the floor between his feet.

"They don't like me."

"The portraits don't like you."

"Yeah." She sighed. "They think I'm a failure."

"What gives you that opinion?"

She thought that ought to be moderately obvious. "Well, my family, for one thing. They're all dead. If you hadn't noticed. Galen's an ass, doesn't count. Bethany's in the Circle, might as well be dead for all I'll see her. Amell family," she made a sweeping motion, "all washed out."

He changed tactic. "Your friends don't think you're a failure."

"They just... don't know better."

"What about Varric? You value his judgement."

"Too soft hearted. Doesn't count."

"Aveline?"

"Aveline has _always_ disapproved of me. Sh'loves me, but dispproves." She began to tick them off on her fingers. "Merrill hates me, 'cause I wouldn't give her that blood magic tool... thing. Anders is crazy. _And_ possessed. And I refused to read his stupid manifesto, which is apparently some kind of secret code for trying to kiss me." She thought. "Isabella... never liked me much. There's only room for one backstabbing wench in a group, I guess."

Fenris looked like his thoughts might be stuck at Anders' manifesto.

"That just leaves you, and..." she made a long dramatic hand gesture, which could have indicated the ruined building they sat in, or the things that they both knew and never talked about. She wasn't drunk enough to start _that_ conversation. Probably never would be.

"So there. All of you wrong. Except the portraits. And me." She rested her head on her hands for a moment, then looked up. "Hey. Guess what the Invisible Sisterhood had a lot of?"

"Antivan brandy?"

"Yes! You are smart. Ten points to the tattooed elf!" She reached for her bag. "I brought you some."

"Hawke," he started, but she pulled out a second bottle and handed it to him.

"Cheers!" She grabbed for the one between his feet, managed not to knock it over, clinked it against the bottle he was still holding, and took a drink. "It's bad luck to clink and not drink, you know," she added seriously.

...

Maker's breath, her head hurt. She rolled over and hissed. The sunlight was stabby.

There was a scratch at her door, and Orana came in with some tea. "Good morning mistress. How are you feeling?"

"Awful. Rough night last night..." She paused, mid thought. "Orana, how did I get into bed?"

"Fenris brought you home. He even carried you up the stairs, so that Bodahn didn't have to. He's so kind, isn't he?"

"Yeeees. Thanks for the tea, Orana, that will do for now." Hawke pulled the pillow over her head. It hadn't been a dream. As if things weren't awkward enough... Maker save her foolish hide.


End file.
